Hmph.
By this time, I should be in New York City, hanging out with my boyfriend and my friends, enjoying a garlic bagel with cream cheese and a coffee mug with free refills. I should be able to stroll over to watch the overpriced iceskaters at Rockefeller and swing by Sardi's for a swanky glass of wine, per custom. But I'm not. After a trek to the airport yesterday which resulted in 12 hours spent sitting on waiting room floors, fighting with ticket agents and waiting hours for a lost suitcase (lost even though my flight never left the airport), I sadly had to struggle back home to my flat last night, as my flight (and every other departure) was cancelled due to weather.
Yesterday was the most frustrating day of my life, bar none... and I've worked with lawyers professionally, so that's saying something. I left early for the airport because Heathrow's website warned of delays. I had reconfirmed my flight with Delta however, and although delayed by 30 minutes, everything was looking good. I got to the airport three hours before my flight, waited on check-in and security queues, and finally got into the airport proper. After grabbing some brekkies and coffee, I began what was to be a tedious day of waiting. I was never given a gate for my flight, so had to sit on the floor in the airport, just beyond the security area. At least once every five minutes, an employee would come past and inform us we "were not allowed to sit there." Interestingly, there was nowhere we were allowed to sit. The first hitch in an unpleasant day.
Then, my flight was repeatedly delayed. First by one, then two, then five hours. We still didn't have a gate, so I was still stuck squatting in the general lobby and being frequently admonished by staff for my choice of seat. Additionally, because I was not assigned to a gate, I had no airline agent to speak to. So the wait continued. I'd like to note at this point that I had previously signed up with Heathrow's status alert text message scheme, which at least every half hour, persisted in sending me mocking text messages informing me that my flight was boarding or on time etc. Finally, at 4pm, over four hours after my flight should have departed, it was cancelled. And how did I find out? Not via the airline or the airport, but from another stranded girl in the terminal who's mother saw it online (back in the States) and called her.
Once I heard about the cancellation, I hightailed to Delta's inquiry desk, where I was informed that no food, accomodation or travel vouchers would be issued, as the cancellation resulted from extraordinary circumstances. Here, I'd like to state once and for all that I will never fly with Delta again, as other airlines, including my preferred Continental, were giving compensation. Not only that, but I was refused rebooking at the inquiry desk, and told that I had to reclaim my bag, exit departures, go through baggage claim and speak to a Delta representative at the ticket esk in the landside terminal.
At this point, other flights were still slated to leave. I decided to speak to a Continental rep to try to get on the Newark flight leaving in the evening, should it be able to get offground. I've done this at other airports numerous times. In my experience, when weather is a concern, it is easy to switch a ticket from one airline to another airline if a suitable flight is found. Continental however sent me to speak with Delta. Who sent me to speak with Continental. Lather, rinse, repeat. Finally, I got a different Continental rep (after three tries at this desk) who quietly told me that I was being given the runaround because no one wanted to handle rebookings at the time. Awesome. While I was angry at my previous treatment, I was glad that at least someone felt it prudent to tell me the truth.
At this point, I went down to bagge claim to get my bag. I figured this would be easy, as my plane never left. But alas, I had to wait for two hours for bags from my flight to appear, and then, when they did, mine was not among them. The airline lost my bag. I never left the airport, but my bag was lost. Awesome. While waiting an additional hour for it to surface, and after hassling with no less than three baggage handling employees, I decided to try to call Delta. I was offered a rebooking for, wait for it, December 26th. The day after Christmas. The earliest flight they could offer me. At this point, it must be noted that I had had enough. I cried like a small inconsolable child in front of baggage carousel eight.
I finally left baggage claim and then had to wait to go through passport control and customs (again, even though I never left), got told by an immigration official to "cheer up" and finally made it to the Delta desk. Which had closed at 5pm. In the middle of weather emergency in which the airline had cancelled EVERY in and outbound flight, they still closed at 5pm. After another phone call to bookings, I cancelled my flight and started the refund process, fully depressed that i would not make it back to the States for the holiday. Defeated and still teary, I decided to go home. I picked up all of my crap again and headed for the underground station.... where the story gets even worse.
The Picadilly, the only Underground line servicing Heathrow, was closed. Closed. Because by this point the airport had for all intents and purposes closed, it was a swarm of people. The landside terminal was so packed that people couldn't roll suitcases through the crowd. This also means that the taxi queue stretched the length of the airport. So that option was out. My only choice was to pay nearly 20 pounds for the luxury of waiting 45 minutes for the Heathrow Express, which dropped me off at Paddington Station, on the other side of the city from where I live. I then had to drag self and belongings through two tube transfers before finally making it back to my neighborhood. On the walk home, trudging through the three inches of snow, I sobbed. I was feeling so sorry for myself, and was so distracted, that, not watching where I was going, I tripped over the curb, slipped and fell, and wound up with ripped pants, a fat lip and bruise on my face. Brilliant.
After a continued cry, I called Expedia, and spoke to my first kind employee of the day. He didn't dodge my questions, ignore me, tell to cheer up, or to get out of the way. He said he was sorry. Even though it wasn't his fault. And that made me feel better. A simple "I'm Sorry" is one of the kindest things one can hear on a terrible day. and then he helped me rebook myself for a flight on Tuesday. Which is even nicer. This is of course all weather permitting. Heathrow is still basically closed, and there are already cancellations for outgoing flights tomorrow. But I desperately clinging to the hope that I can get out on that flight, and be with my family on Tuesday night.
All in all, yesterday was highly unpleasant. And I didn't even have it the worst. I at least have somewhere to go back to in London. There were no hotel rooms to be found near the airport, and frankly, even if I found one, I couldn't have afforded it. The girl I was talking to in the waiting room had expressed the same concern, as she was going home from a semester abroad, and had nearly no money left. I really felt for her while we sat and talked for a few hours, and forced her to let me buy her lunch. I'm no moneybags, but I've been in her position a few times, and know precisely that terrible kind of panic. I lost track of her, but hope she is okay, and had someplace to stay last night. I saw parents with small children all over the terminal as well, and can only imagine the awful night they had. I do recognize that the treatment I received from airline and airport staff, which I perceive as rude, is merely a case of staff doing their best on a trying day. And yet, I still do not appreciate it, particularly when all any of us (staff and travellers alike) want to do is to go home. Don't bounce a person from desk to desk to desk simply because you don't want to give her the bad news.
At this point, I'm holding out hope for Tuesday. That's the best I can do. Best of luck to you all in your holiday travels!
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